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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29433576">The Powers of Flowers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/incandescentchampagneproblems/pseuds/incandescentchampagneproblems'>incandescentchampagneproblems</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, flowershop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:29:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29433576</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/incandescentchampagneproblems/pseuds/incandescentchampagneproblems</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Liz hates flowers--and most rom-com archetypes. The universe has a sense of humor though--and great taste in cute guys.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Max Evans/Liz Ortecho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Powers of Flowers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a short little one shot in honor of Valentine's Day--I'm still trying to figure my writing style out with one shots, so any comments or critiques are always welcome! Thanks so much for reading</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Liz Ortecho </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> flowers. Really, what was to like? Sure, they were colorful and she supposed they smelled nice--well, when you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> smell them. After that, though, what was the point? They made you sneeze. They always had bugs around them. They were fickle and hard to keep alive. In Liz’s view, they weren’t worth the trouble. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After all, what was more ironic than indicating your </span>
  <em>
    <span>undying love</span>
  </em>
  <span> for another person with a plant you killed on purpose?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, I’d say being an employee at a flower shop when you hate the damn things could give it a run for its money. </span>
  </em>
  <span> Er, excuse her--</span>
  <em>
    <span>florist boutique</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She could practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tia Camila chastising her for using such a...pedestrian term. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sobrina, we are giving the customers an </span>
  </em>
  <span>experience. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can you please just try and do this for me? Por fa? </span>
  </em>
  <span> The woman had worked hard to create a brand of luxury within the sleepy New Mexico town--she’d be damned if a plucky twenty-something was going to call it a flower shop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz rolled her eyes at the thought, flicking a stray petal as far away from her as possible. No, she didn’t have some sad backstory that made her hate flowers and all things romance related. No break up gone horribly wrong or a lover turned enemy at the flip of a switch. Not even a heartbreak by proxy--her parents had been happily married for years and even her sister Rosa was dating someone steadily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This dislike was simply an Elizabeth Ortecho issue and those were about as common as the cacti that lined her back porch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ding</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The door chimed and Liz caught herself from nearly falling over in boredom. It’d been a whole...fifteen minutes since her shift started and she was already on the verge of a nap. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, fifteen minutes? What the hell am I going to do for the next five hours?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She slowly lumbered out from behind the counter, picking off another wayward petal from her black leggings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes roamed the shop, looking for the customer--</span>
  <em>
    <span>guest, Sobrina! They are our guest!--</span>
  </em>
  <span> before nearly bumping straight into him. “Oof--sorry. Uh, Hi.” Awkward pause, Liz forgetting for a moment she had a role to play. “Welcome to Flora Y Fauna Florist Boutique! How can I assist you today?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The male looked to be about her age--maybe a year or two older, but that was only because of the five o’clock shadow he was sporting. His hair was slightly disheveled and Liz had to wonder if that was on purpose or just the way it naturally fell. She could never tell with men these days--the idea of rugged being a manufactured  look was all the rage currently. Her gaze fell to his left hand, where his very worn, very used cowboy hat was and she nodded internally. Not manufactured, just good ol’ hat hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Point one for John Wayne. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hi.” He replied, his voice tinged with a hint of surprise--her hadn’t expected anyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mrs. Calderon to be working today. Or any day. He couldn’t remember a single day that he’d ever been in Flora y Fauna and Mrs. Calderon </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> working. Not that he came in a lot--that would’ve been opening up a whole can of worms. Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew this store had the best flowers this side of the Rio Grande. But this woman in front of him--long black hair, a faded band t-shirt and black leggings--she was certainly knew, he was sure of it. “Who are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz furrowed her brows. That wasn’t--he was supposed to tell her what he wanted or that he was “just looking”. Being anonymous was the only part of the job she liked--well, at least semi anonymous anyway. She looked at him for a moment, then back to her nametag and then right back at him. “I’m Liz.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A short burst of laughter escaped the male’s lips as he watched her answer. “That’s fair--though I have to tell you, reading was never my strong suit. Couldn’t tell you how many times my parents tried to get me to finish a book--but if there weren’t pictures, no go.” His hands went up, palms facing her with a sheepish grin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Figures you’re in a flower shop then--no reading required.” She replied, giving him another once over--perhaps this time slightly more obvious. Inability to read aside, he looked decently put together. Not that Liz was really the best judge of things like that. But if she was to make a guess, he lived in the nicer part of town, had some money to his name--maybe even a college degree? His worn hat and dusty boots were an indication he definitely wasn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>playing</span>
  </em>
  <span> cowboy either. He worked for it--though perhaps not as hard as some other folks she knew. All in all, he was good looking--sure. And definitely here to get flowers for a date. No other reason a guy like him would be in a flower shop after 5pm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, aren’t I just the luckiest, then?” He quipped, an easy smile resting on his lips. She was standoffish--something he hadn’t expected but not something that bothered him. He wondered why someone who clearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to talk to people was in the business of doing exactly that. “Name’s Max, by the way. Since you were so kind to give me yours.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks--I’ll be sure to file it away next to your language arts struggles.” Her tone dripped of sarcasm, but as soon as the words came from her mouth, she regretted them. The remorse surprised Liz;it wasn’t like her to care what strangers felt. This man though--the whole two seconds she’d spoken with him--he didn’t deserve her frustration. He was simply going about his day and she was making it harder for him. Tia Camila would definitely not approve of that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz cleared her throat again. “See anything that interests you?” She nodded to the displays of flowers lining the shop. It was becoming painfully clear to her that if he were to ask her any questions of the flora in front of them, she’d be hard pressed to give him an answer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she cursed silently. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I should have paid attention in orientation. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Max’s gaze fell on Liz, but she had turned her back to him to showcase the flowers. Roswell was </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> not a large town, so why had he never seen her before? There was no way she’d slip past him--she had this air of mystery that drew him in immediately. He’d have remembered if he’d been entranced by her before. The woman turned around, waiting for him to indicate what interested him and he cursed inwardly. “Uhm, those--over there. Begonias.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god, Begonias? He had to pick those--out of all the fucking flowers Tia has, he picks the most uncommon one he can find? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Liz’s face twisted into some sort of smile--how accurate, she wasn’t sure--and led them to the pink blossoms. “Begonias.” She repeated, desperately searching for words to make her sound like she did, in fact, work at said flower shop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max looked at her for a moment, studying her expression. It was curious to him--he wanted to know what got her so lost in thought she could only repeat his last word. “What kind of begonias are they?” He proffered, hoping a simple question would make her feel more comfortable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell? They’re pink! Doesn’t he have eyes?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Pink Begonias.” She said, clearly sure this man is off his rocker if he can’t even determine what </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind</span>
  </em>
  <span> of begonias he’s looking at. Max grinned softly and for a moment, Liz wondered if she’d been found out. The smile disappears again and he inspects them thoroughly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What region are they from?” Another softball but this one was a test. Pink begonias was a lucky guess--and Max was sure that a guess was exactly what it was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bahamas. They are a rare find--we have a deal with a supplier so we’re the only ones that get them in the state.” At some point, Liz had decided that she absolutely did not know anything about a single blossom on this shop but if she was going to make this sale, she had to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> impressive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The bahamas? Really? I wasn’t aware they exported flowers. Huh.” Oh, this woman knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> about flowers--which, ordinarily, as the son of the biggest nursery in town, would have greatly pissed him off. Her confidence in her words, though, made him more entertained than annoyed. “Learn something new every day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, of course you wouldn’t know--you’re not in the flower business. But trust me, these are real special.” She hesitated for a moment, her brain working overtime for her next line of solid gold shit. “They say, these flowers have special properties. Long ago, a woman had planted them in her garden as she cried about a long lost lover and how missed him terribly. The tears she had cried fell on the soil of the begonias, and the next day--her showed up to tell her how he’d been looking for her for years. He was about to give up but something nudged him to try one last house.” God, for someone who hated romantic things, she sure could spin a love story. She glanced over at Max, wondering how her tale did. His lips curved upwards and she knew she had him, hook, line and--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bullshit. What a fucking load of bullshit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If Max was less restrained, he’d be on his ass right now, laughing up a storm. How was this woman even able to continue working here with her lack of knowledge on anything having to do with her job? Regardless of what she did or </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> did not know--Liz could absolutely spin a story and a damn good one at that. For a moment--just a moment--he really did believe that story existed. Maybe she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> meant to work in a flower shop; after all, the point was to sell flowers for occasions and the more cheesy someone got, the better, right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, how can I say no to magic flowers?” He winked, looking over the bushel to decide what bouquet he’d be inclined to purchase. Truthfully, he was here to get honeysuckles, but he was sure that begonias would be a welcome change of pace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d be connected about your attention to detail if you did” She teased, for the first time letting a true smile peak through her lips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Y’know, apart from the burning stupidity of not actually knowing anything about these damn things--this actually is kind of fun. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Liz thought to herself as she watched Max pick his bouquet. “Want me to wrap those up for you?” She </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> know how to do that, thank god.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max nodded once, his eyes focused on the slight grin that Liz had finally allowed out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wow, she had a great smile</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Their fingers brushed slightly as she went to reach for the bundle, a zap of electricity jolting the both of them. Instantly, their gazes met and then in a flash, Liz looked away--much to the dismay of Max. He was sure a few moments longer and he’d happily be lost in her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What--what was that</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Liz nearly screamed in her head as she quickly turned her body away from him toward the counter. Her chest was hammering hard against her chest and it took everything in her not to turn around to look at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fingers brushing should not have caused my entire brain to short circuit--so what gives?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, how magic are these flowers, anyway?” Max asked, after a few moments of silence and gathering of his thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, like what kind of magic can these babies produce?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, they’re not going to conjure up any hundred dollar bills if that’s what you’re asking.” Her tone was sharp again, defensive even--oh, something definitely had been sparked with that moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about a phone number? Can they make one of those appear?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Liz’s head snapped up to look at him. “Wait--hold on.” A pause. “Are you--are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>hitting</span>
  </em>
  <span> on me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Max shrugged nonchalantly. “No. I was simply asking for your phone number. Does that mean I’m hitting on you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah--that’s literally what that means. Are you--you sure you haven’t spent too much time in the sun out there?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His laugh was light and jovial. “Well then, yes--I’m hitting on you. Although I don’t much like that term--feels misleading.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s a euphemism but still--I can’t believe you’re hitting on me!” Liz completed rolling the flowers, taping the paper together so they didn’t fall out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well you weren’t paying attention then,” Max replied casually, grabbing the bundle and passing over a twenty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Excuse me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> What the hell do you mean I wasn’t paying attention?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look--I told you I’m bad at reading but it looks like I’m not the only one,” He grabbed a pen and scribbled ten numbers on the back of the business card sitting next to him. “When you figure it out, let me know.” He slid the card over to the woman with a smirk and turned on his heel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you want your change?” She called after him, eyes still trained on the phone number directly in front of her. But he had already left the shop--and left her speechless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, this was definitely starting to feel strangely like the beginning of a Rom Com and Liz Ortecho would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be caught dead in one of those. </span>
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